


The Quiet Wars of Forgiveness

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: Regaining Ground [3]
Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-07
Updated: 2008-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:18:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in a bloodless battle, everybody gets wounded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet Wars of Forgiveness

The woods opened up very suddenly to the steep hills that led down from the great mountains. Their horse walked more confidently baring them inexorably forward.

Lines of tents spread out before them, ranging up the hills. Smoke from campfires trailed upwards to the rising suns. Already the sounds of industry filled the war camp and sentries traded off posts with friendly patter. Everything was calm until they were spotted.

Azkadelliah's spine went very straight against his stomach as she drew herself up.

"Ready?"

"No going back now even if I wasn't." Before he could stop her, she vaulted herself up, standing precariously on the saddle and throwing her arms wide.

"It's her! The Unawakened!" One soldier shouted and the rustle stirred through the tents, around the campfires and all the way to lookout towers.

"My loyal men and women!" Azkadelliah's voice rang out, strong and authoritative. "Where is my Kari? Bring me to her!"

Runners flung out from all directions looking for their leader. Only a minute later, a woman emerged from the hill already moving a good clip. She wore a long braid that trailed out behind her as she ran. A plain grey dress billowed around her legs, not slowing her a bit.

"Is it you, truly, my Az?" She slowed as she reached the horse, leaning back to stare up.

Azkadelliah dismounted and threw herself into the offered arms.

"It is I, Kari. I thought you were dead."

Tears flowed on both side and it was actually rather touching. Wyatt used the distraction to look about him. No one was using this early morning time to work out or practice fighting. The sentry towers were sloppy and with the arrival of Azkadelliah, most of their posts were abandoned.

They could have easily ambushed the whole area and taken out a good portion of the opposing side without too much worry for their own soldiers.

It was almost as if...

He looked to Karida...maybe twenty-five though it was hard to tell with her face buried in Azkadelliah's shoulder. The soldiers vying for a look...their faces fresh and unwrinkled. None of them had a single scar.

Oh, sweet hell, what had he almost done?

It was an army of children.

~*~

"Not even your eyes are that sharp."

Ambrose did not turn from his post. The turret was a pleasant enough to wile away an hour or two. If he wanted to strain to see across the horizon to where battle was only just beginning. The Queen rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I can see far enough." The warmth of her hand penetrated his clothes and made him aware just how chilly it was up here.

"This could get very ugly." She mused. "If it is not handled with all the care you proposed."

"It's not delicacy that concerns me. It's the unpredictability of human action. There's no coefficient to account for it. What if they just hang them as witches?"

"They won't. They love her, worship her even. "

"Don't you find that strange? She was trying to end the world and they love her."

"Everyone loves a rebel." He could feel her shrug behind him. "And perhaps, there is a fatigue in the world."

Surprised, he turned to face her.

"What are you suggesting?"

"The O.Z. is very old, Ambrose. Every struggle between light and dark fractures it a little more. The trees groan with age, the land must be engineered to bare its fruits and the suns slow in their rotations."

"It's a world, not a clock. It can't just wind down." He searched her face, but she was perfectly serious.

"Not in our lifetimes nor even for many generations to come, my friend." She assured him. "But there is an entropy that we will contend with. Oblivion cannot be held at bay forever."

"Now I'm depressed and worried."

She sighed.

"Join the club."

~*~

The dream was a good one, soaked in warmth and darkness. It was so unusual that he was loath to wake. Most nights, he still dreamt of the sequence burned into his retina. Adora, captured, Jeb beaten and both of them hauled out of his sight, presumably to their deaths. In the dreams, it's worse somehow. Bloodier and full of potent omens.

This dream went deeper borrowing into formless, but good things. And a voice whispered over and over...

"Wyatt....Wyatt...wake up for the Idiot Godling's sake."

He turned, meaning to throw an arm around his provoker to draw him close and convince him to sleep a while longer. When his grasp met open air, he was awake in an instant. The whisper persisted. Incredulously he stared down at his watch. The intricate cover had flipped open and standing on the watch face was an ethereal four inch tall Ambrose.

"You didn't mention that feature."

"You snuck out before I could. Miniprojector. You like?" He did a little twirl on the watch face.

"Nice." He held the tiny Ambrose closer to his face. The projection was transparent and uneven, but clear enough. "Risky though."

"I knew you were alone. Remote heat sensors let me read the room."

"Tent."

"Whatever. How is everything over there?"

"Proceeding. No one trusts me, but with Azkadelliah backing me they're too afraid to do much about it. Got the luxury of my own tent." He hesitated then plunged ahead. "They're kids."

"Kids?"

"Can't be more then half a dozen of them over twenty. Shit, half of them can't be more then fifteen or sixteen. Some young as twelve. I've started listening around, you know. Getting a feel for things. All of them are orphans. Mistress Karida went around to all the orphanages and found all the kids whose parents died fighting for the Witch."

"What does that mean for us?"

"I'll go ahead with things. Not sure if it'll make things easier or harder. Makes me feel better about not laying waste to the whole bunch though."

The tiny Ambrose bowed his head, the neat line dividing his scalp tenderly exposed.

"We certainly don't need more blood on our hands. If you need me, twist that knob." He knelt and pointed to a minute gear. "Take care."

"Always."

The little man blinked out and Wyatt rose. No sleep left for him, not tonight. He had work to do.

~*~

The lake spread at out as placid as ever. D.G. stood on the shore; a towel draped over one shoulder. Her bathing suit was already soaked through and she was contemplating another dip though the water was cold.

"I do love her, you know."

She turned, startled. Jeb was standing only a few feet away, regarding her with a mix of caution and sadness.

"Is this really the best moment for this conversation? I swear you and your father are like conversation ninjas."

"Ninja?"

"Never mind. So yes, you love my sister. I kinda got that what with the ridiculous quest and house building."

"You don't seem to believe me."

"It's a little unbelievable." She admitted, tucking the towel around her waist defensively. "But if it's working for you guys, it's not my business."

"Except that it is. You're living with us, presumably forever. She needs you and if you don't approve of us...things will never be right." He twisted his hands together. "It's too much for me to please two women."

D.G. snorted.

"You've got to be the first guy I've ever heard admit to that." She put a hand on her hip. "Jeb, I honestly don't disapprove of you. I don't get it, but it's nice. I like that she's got you in her life. It makes everything a little easier on her."

"Does it?" He shrugged. "I thought it did, now I'm not so sure."

"So...you want me to reassure you even though you think I disapprove?"

"I don't know." An irritated grunt escaped him. "I want...I want her to be happy. But I want to be the one to make her happy. My father tells me that it will take time that she's been through so much. Locked away same way the both of us were."

"That's a problem. Looking at it that way. You were trapped watching something terrible. Azkadelliah...was doing those things. Different things, ruining lives and destroying things...all the while fighting herself or not...I'm not really sure to tell the truth."

He paused and she waited for him to jump to his beloved's defense.

"She said in the end...she wanted to die. She'd given up."

It was something D.G. had thought from time to time. Hearing it confirmed still felt like a punch in the gut.

"Oh." She sat down on the cool grass and folded her legs up to her chest. "Are they asking her to do more then she can? Are we in danger because we can't believe that she could do those things?"

"You're mother believes that the dark is still very much a part of her." Jeb sat down next to her.

"She doesn't! She couldn't!"

"Please." He held up a hand. "I'm not trying to start family disputes. The Queen has her reasons, but she treats her own daughter like a distant acquaintance. There is no doubt that she thinks Azkadelliah herself had a hand in the near destruction of the O.Z."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it? I fought against her my whole life, D.G. I saw the horrors that were wrecked on the people I loved. It was terrible.'

"But you love her! You just said so!"

"More then you can ever imagine." He gave her a slight smile. "I love the woman that could emerge from that kind of torture and still smile. Who knows that kind of darkness and can still appreciate the light. I love the woman that can look at me and understand. I did what I had to do to win and I'm not proud of a lot of it."

"You love her because you both have blood on your hands?"

"I love her because she survived. She can get up every morning and make us bread."

"It is pretty good bread." She smiled back at him. "Maybe when she gets back, we can have a real party. I don't think she's had a real birthday party since we were children."

"I'd like to do that."

They sat together and watched the water. Upon closer inspection, it was not so still. Life teemed in it setting ripples out across the lake reaching for them.

~*~

"You look well." Karida reached for her and Azkadelliah allowed herself to be drawn close.

They sat together in the large tent Karida resided in. A large table covered in papers stood nearby. Already, Azkadelliah had the lay of their plans. The soft pillows underneath them invited her to sink down and rest her head awhile.

"I sleep well, eat well. Of course, I look well."

"It has been a very long two annuals, my heart." Gentle fingers undid her hair and she leaned into the sensation. "I hoped that you would find me, figure me out before this. I missed you."

"I thought you were dead. If you weren't...I didn't want to draw attention to you." Her eyes went wide. "Surely, you did not imagine that I ignored you out of spite or some misguided anger....."

"Shhh...we can talk of it in the morning. Sleep now, my queen." A gentle kiss swept over her lips and Azkadelliah slept.

~*~

"What does a soldier need to do his job well?" Ambrose had asked several nights before.

"Water, food and boots." Wyatt replied without thinking.

"Boots?" D.G. protested.

"More battles have been lost over bad footwear then I care to think about." Wyatt pointed to his own sturdy shoes. "Ever tried to march a battalion through a dark woods when their shoes don't fit or worse they got none at all?"

"Sounds uncomfortable." She agreed.

"Water. Food. Boots." Neat script filled Ambrose's notepaper. He added a sharply pointed arrow and extra word. "Morale."

The water was easy. The army was downstream of the lake and therefore didn't trust the river water. All the water was supplied from a well. Wyatt moved quietly through the camp and made to wash his face with a bucket of clean water. When he was sure no one was looking, he tossed in his treat.

Half the camp had intense stomach cramps and diarrhea by nightfall.

~*~

"Mom?"

The Queen looked up from her desk with a smile.

"Yes, dear? What is it?"

"Do you trust Azkadelliah?"

Papers forgotten, the Queen stood and moved to her younger daughter.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because...some things I was talking about with Jeb. It's just...it seems like maybe you don't. Maybe you don't even love her."

"Oh." Her beautiful lavender eyes closed against the hurt, the guilt and the pain. "D.G. you cannot imagine how if feels....the witch that stole her from me used her likeness to torture me for annuals. There's no recovering from that. No gaining back...I'm trying my best to love her for what she is now. But it is very hard."

"I thought that parents were supposed to love their children no matter what." Tears welled up without thinking. The back of her hand dashed them away. "You're supposed to kiss her and tell her you love her. Tell her, please. When she gets back."

If, thought the Queen.

"I will, my angel, I will."

"I think I'd rather not talk to you any more right now." D.G. backed out from the room, running when she hit the doorway.

When Ambrose knocked later, he found his Queen in tears at her desk and could not soothe her for all the words in his vast vocabulary. In the end, he called for her husband to take her away and the two did not emerge again for the rest of the day.

~*~

"Why did you love me?"

The range of tents spread out from their feet and the soldiers hurried about their business under the watchful eye of their mistress and Queen.

"Do. I do love you." Karida reached for her hand and she did no resist.

"All right. Why do you love me?" She gestured with one hand indicating the whole of the world with one hand. "I tried to destroy everything. Everything. Including you. And you never said a word about it."

"Is that what this melancholy mood is for?" Karida laughed. "That's easy. I never thought you were actually going to destroy the world. You wanted to remold it. That's what you would tell me and I believed it. Your true interest always was in control and power, not in destruction."

"I really was, Kari. I was going to take it all down." Azkadelliah grasped her friend's hand tighter, digging her nails into the soft flesh of her hand.

"Well, you aren't now." Karida only squeezed back. "And I love you because I do. You never have to question that. There's no reason except that it is."

"That's not a reason."

"Love isn't reasonable. Sometimes, you're a very silly girl, Az."

And suddenly Azkadelliah did feel like a silly girl. One playing with matches that had long ago burned her hands to the bone. Yet, she could not help but admire the flickering flame as it licked down the wood ever closer to her fingertips.

~*~

Food was trickier. It was stored all in once place tactically not brilliant, but practical to a former Head of Household. He'd been surprised to find that the larder was very well guarded. One young woman with the unceremonious name of Ro, served both as his guard and tour guide had explained. "Mistress Karida says that food is a privilege, not a right. When she served the Unawakened, food was plentiful, but when she had to retreat she would go for long weeks without a bite. When we're bad, we lose food privileges first." She grinned. "I don't mind. I see nicest colors when I'm hungry."

"I haven't seen anyone looking really hungry. You must not get punished often.'

Ro laughed, throwing back her head and Wyatt found himself charmed by her.

"Oh, food privileges are first or for stupid things. Any officer can suspend that and everyone knows complaining about it just a waste of time." She shrugged. "Whippings are the Mistress' punishment."

"Whippings?" Wyatt looked around at the raucous camps. Children marauded without control. "Who the hell gets whipped? What do they have to do, kill someone?"

"You've only been here a few days." She bounced around him, leading him towards the center of camp. "At the end of every week, the officers hand over their lists and the Mistress makes her decisions. There's always at least one example. Deserters, thieves and anyone speaking against our mission are the usual."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Ro paused, standing on one foot. If she was a day over thirteen, he'd be shocked.

"Not really. I mean, everyone has to agree or how will anything get done?" She set down her other foot. "Don't all armies work that way?"

He thought about the brutalities he'd seen during war and sighed.

"Some do. Others rely more on..." He shook his head. It wasn't the time to get into a debate. The last thing he needed was to raise more suspicion. As it was the only way he found to shake Ro was to go into the woods for a piss. Of course, at night, he was guarded by a single soldier outside his tent. That was easier to get around.

Getting into the larder required significantly more finesse. It was nice to know he hadn't lost his ability to lurk in shadows or sneak efficiently. Another one of Ambrose's cooked up vials, this one he was gladder to get rid of. He never had trusted squirming things.

No one was happy about the maggots in the bread. They knew better then to complain openly though and nothing seemed to change. Wyatt bided his time and used his nerves to make the soldiers around him jittery with worry.

"Looks like it's going to rain." He commented in passing. "Wonder how these tents will hold up under a real cloud buster."

Every solider in listening distance looked up at the bright blue sky with suspicion.

~*~

"When everything is settled, I want to be your Head of Household again." Karida stood before her in the plain grey dress that she wore everyday. "It was the only time in my life I was truly happy."

"They were good days." They had been. "But they will be even better this time."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because we will rule together." She smiled at her. "You and I. Look at this army you have gathered all around you, Kari. You are so strong, so smart. There is no need for you play at being my maid."

"Oh, my love." Kari sank down to her knees in front of her. "I have longed to serve you all the days of my life. I want no other occupation."

"Then why all this fighting? You can serve me just as easily if I were pauper then if I were again Queen."

"You jest!" Kari let out a short giggle. "I know you better then you know yourself and you would never be happy living quietly.. I will give you back your life, Az. Everything you want, I will put at your feet."

"Truly, Kari? You can do all that?"

"Truly, my love." She cupped her cheek. "You are shy and quiet now, but I can see already you are remembering yourself. It's nearly noon now. Come with me and retake your power."

"What do you...oh."

It was the end of the week. Seven days since she had held Jeb's hand, kissed him and told him that all was well. Seven long days laying next to Kari, listening to her tender seductions and gentle breath. It was the day the Mistress Karida reminded her troops who was boss.

The whip was mounted on a peg and already, Kari was pulling it slowly from the wall. It unravled in a thick, muffled thud.

Azkadelliah thought of the feel of a whip in her hand. The rough leather in her palm and the crack of it in the air. Thought about the screams and the blood and sickness welled in her. How awful it had been. How wonderful the power of it and how terrible the control. If she refused, Karida would suspect her. If she gave in....

"Of course." She clasped her hand over Kari's. "I can feel myself returning just thinking of it."

The boy was only fifteen and was owed ten lashes for failing to show up for kitchen duty. No matter that he had been ill at the time. The whip was as steady as she remembered it. The only blessing was that they faced him away and that ten strokes when done correctly are not quite enough to strip flesh down to the bone.

Otherwise, it was just as she remembered. Afterward, in the privacy of the woods, she curled her arms around a tree and held onto it for dear life. Her cries were silent and dry. The slightest hint of redness would have alerted her dear friend. Her enemy. Her lover. Her soul mate.

She tilted her head up to the skies and prayed to one in particular, but very hard. She prayed solely for rain.

~*~

"You should talk to your mother."

"Why?" D.G. curled further into her bed and away from Ambrose's gentle voice.

"Because she thinks that you hate her for something that she cannot control."

"I do hate her, a little." She sniffled and felt the bed dip under his weight.

"What would you have her do, D.G.? Forget everything that happened? Erase the last decade of her life as if it had not happened?"

"I want her to know that it wasn't her daughter that did that. It was the Witch."

Ambrose sighed and rubbed a hand over his scar. It was unusually irritated from this attention lately. He winced at his own touch.

"That's debatable. Even Azkadelliah herself would admit that much. I agree that your mother could handle things better, but all things considered you shouldn't make her feel worse about things." He rested a hand on her head. "She's only just gotten the both of you back after missing most of your childhood and adolescence. There's a lot missing."

"We all have chunks of missing time and we're coping."

"Wyatt still has nightmares." His words swelled in the dark. "Terrible, screaming nightmares that there's no waking from. Sometimes, even awake, he's simply not there. I can see in his eyes that he's back there, in the suit, trapped as the day that we found him. My memories of ten annuals are jumbled at best, ruined at worst. Sometimes, I find myself places that I should recognize...my bedroom or hallway and I simply cannot remember where I am. We're all a terrible mess, my dear. You do better. You missed time in the O.Z., but that time was peaceful for you."

"So I should be more compassionate because I was lucky enough to be raised by robots?" She muttered indignantly.

"Yes, actually." He patted her head gently. "You got to grow up like a real girl. The rest of us are playing the part of actual human beings. If you look hard enough, you can see quite a bit of it is sham and glue."

"You're not very good at pep talks."

"Well....no. That was rather a downer. How about this....your mother loves you and she does love Azkadelliah. Please try to understand that she is trying and...you can meet in the middle somewhere."

"Less eloquent, a bit more sense." She laid her head on his thigh and he marveled once more, how innocent she was and vowed again to protect that. "I'll apologize. Even if she's wrong."

"How magnanimous of you."

"Don't think big words hide your sarcasm, mister."

~*~

"Did you hear that?" Ro turned to her superior officer. He glared at her.

"Hear what?"

"Thunder."

"Aw, shut up. You aren't listening to those damn rumors, are you? It hasn't rained bad here for a long time. It's summer!"

The peal was louder this time, shaking the very trees with its boom.

"Looks like rain." Remarked another boy.

The officer thumped him on the back of the head.

"Just keep your mind on your boots. If they look that dirty again tomorrow, we're never going to pass inspection."

~*~

My dearest Azkadelliah,

Only a week and a day have passed since last I saw your beautiful face. I cannot sleep, food is of no interest to me. I worry terribly in a way I cannot ever remember. Are you well? Do you sleep?

I cannot hope to send any communication to you. Even this letter will be read only by the fires I feed it too. Yet, I feel as though you can hear me. Perhaps it is only folly, but it is passing the time at least.

Dear heart, I want so badly to tell you what I hope for, to spend another night planning our future under the open stars. I think we should call our house something as if it were a grand manor. Something light and pleasant, but dear to us. Glory perhaps....

Or Hope. Hope House has a nice ring to it. Something no one can frown out, I'd think. Though perhaps you would think it too trite. I rather like it. Humor me/

I imagine what our children might look like. Will they have your dark beauty or my peasant face? I hope a mixture of both. Will we tell them about our past? What will become the secrets that we hide and do not share? Sometimes, I think about all the things my father did not, still does not, speak about. The battles he has fought, the way he and my mother met.

Ours is not a story that small children may understand, but I think I should like to tell them anyway.

Are you well, love? Are you safe? Not just in body, but in mind? This is all too soon, still so raw even though two annuals have moved swiftly past us. I fear for you. For us. I do not want only dream a future together. I want to live it.

Yours,

Jeb

~*~

Ambrose stared up at the sky, the Queen and D.G. with him. The clouds began to gather and seethe around the tops of the castle.

"Boots?" D.G. cocked her head to one side trying to sort it all out.

"And then some." Ambrose raised a hand up to the heavens. "A little help?"

The women joined hands and radiant glow poured through their fingers, through skin and spilled in triumph towards the skies. D.G. nearly collapsed as her mother's magic touched her, warmed her in places that had grown cold and opened her thoughts. Together they bathed in the sweetness of their shared power.

For the first time, D.G. realized that she really loved her mother. Not as a child, but as a fully-grown woman appreciates the woman who sacrificed so much to give her life. She forgave her then in more then couched words. Forgave her not only for the perceived sins against Azkadelliah, but for her own, more private wounds.

~*~

Hands wrapped around her wrists, Karida writhed happily under her queen. She could hear the beginnings of rain, but didn't care. She was exactly where she wanted to be. Azkadelliah kissed her hard, played her part and kept her there. Meanwhile, her heart and mind warred and her stomach sank.

She could smell the rain coming.

~*~

"Sir!" An officer approached Mistress Karida's tent. "There's a problem!"

The burly man that acted as second-in-command regarded the interloping boy with a wry smile.

"She's not taking visitors right now, lad. What's the issue?'

"It's the...one called Cain. Sir. He was caught snooping around, planting these." He opened his hand revealing a small firecracker. "One went up already and seared off one of the cadet's eyebrows."

"I knew that brought over business was just an act. The Unawakened one couldn't see what was right in front of her." He debated for a long moment, than shrugged. "Lock him in solitary. Karida can take care of him when she's finished."

"Yes, sir." The boy ran back down the hill and repeated the orders.

It had been pure stupidity, getting caught. The rain so close, the soldiers already hungry and dehydrated, he had just wanted it all over. The little Ambrose that lived in his watch had given the signal and he assumed Ro busy elsewhere. She had stuck faithfully to him, at a distance and turned him in the moment the first cracker went off.

A good plan gone all to waste. A few explosions might have given them some much needed leverage and fear. Now everything rested on Azkadelliah and a good old fashion rain storm.

Now he would tolerate a beating or three. By all accounts, Azkadelliah was doing her part and Karida would not have time to deal with him before all hell broke loose. Freedom would come in a matter of hours. Too quickly for them to mete out much punishment.

"General said solitary." He heard and still wasn't worried as they frog marched him into the hospital tent.

Rows of groaning children sipped at boiled lake water and cursed him as he was dragged by with weak voices. Guilt weighted heavily on him though he knew none of them would suffer lasting damage.

Then he saw where they were taking him and all thoughts, guilty and otherwise, fled. Rational thought departed. He fought like wild animal and very nearly made his escape after knocking three of his captors unconscious.

The whole room of sick children welled against him, forced him back into one of the metal coffins. They were thick, sealed things intended to keep the body preserved until the day the Unawakened retook her throne. The sound of the thick lid closing swept away the last of his reason for a long time.

~*~

Footsteps fell heavily down the stairs and heralded Jeb's arrival long before he actually appeared. Ambrose turned from his preparations to greet him and found him red and sweating.

"We have to leave now!" He danced from foot to foot. "That storm you brewed up is out of control, it's going to tear the hills apart!"

"There's no way we could summon something of that strength. There are no prevailing winds, no rapid temperature changes..."

"I don't care what caused it, but the sky is the color of pitch and the winds are kicking up everything that isn't nailed down. Everyone on that hillside is in danger."

Quickly, Ambrose moved to the white circle painted onto his lab floor and stamped a few times.

"Wyatt! Wyatt, what's going on over there?"

Jeb stared at him like he was a lunatic until he heard heavy breathing. The sound of panic and it certainty wasn't coming from himself or Ambrose. It rattled through the room more alarming then the growing winds outside.

"Wyatt! Talk to me."

"Can't."

"Dad?" Jeb peered down at the white painted floor.

"Jeb? Get him out, don't let him get taken again...save him, please." Desperation filled the air and Jeb kneeled down talking directly to the floor.

"It's ok, Dad. I'm safe, I promise. Please, tell us where you are. Things are getting dangerous."

There was a long, shaky pause of breath.

"I'm in a coffin in the hospital. Got caught. Azkadelliah was fine. Don't know how long...since..."

"It's all right, Dad." He glanced up at Ambrose, but the other man was already in motion, throwing things into his pockets and pulling a jacket around his shoulders. "We're coming."

"Love you, kid." The voice was hoarse and sounded like a goodbye.

"Love you too, Dad. We're going to see you soon."

"Ambrose..."

"I'm coming." And voice had not a trace of fun or wink in it. "Stay where you are, Wyatt Cain or I swear by the Idiot Godling that I will come after you with all the fury of nine hells."

"Yes, sir."

The shaky laugh was all they had to go on by way of hope as they went out into the storm.

~*~

The tent whipped around them, but Karida slept with all the satisfaction she deserved. Azkadelliah watched. And thought and clicked the safety on and off. The gun was beautiful with flowers blossoming off the barrel. As she clicked, the barrel moved. Karida's resting head, her own delicate skull.

Click...click...click...

~*~

There were tricks to holding onto sanity when locked in the dark confines of your own mind. Ambrose's command brought him around to them again. You concentrate on happy moment and keep your eyes tightly shut against the scenes that played out before you far out of your control.

He had met Adora at a fertility festival. They never wanted Jeb to know about it because frankly, it was a little embarrassing. He hadn't even known her name and the first time he met her they both wore only scraps of cloth and stood in a moon washed field. The holiday was ancient and mostly celebrated by reckless teenagers. They didn't talk at all.

The one thing that he loved most about her was her ability to turn silence into something expressive. Other girls hated that he didn't talk much, thought him boring or stupid or both. Adora had read into his quiet immediately, found the texture in it and spoke back to him without a word. They had enjoyed their night together and found each other time and time again.

He remembers her smile, the long drape of her hair on her back and the slight flatness of her buttocks. The way she could rub his back so that every knot he thought he would have to carry forever fell instantly loose. He loved how she had carried Jeb with ease and raised him alone when she had to, so that he could fight against the darkness.

His thoughts fell out of their well-traveled paths and before the darkness could overwhelm him, he picked a new tact.

Would she have liked Ambrose?

She would, he decided. Not out of some desire to believe it so, either. Adora was a curious person and she would have liked how Ambrose moved through the world full of questions and busy hands. She would have liked that he involved himself not only in things, but in people.

Wyatt imagines them meeting in some heavenly space where such things were possible. She would have made him cakes and he would have asked her about her woven baskets. They might have sat together, as he and Ambrose often did, and enjoyed the fading light of the day.

He knew what he would do once this was over. Something he should have done long ago.

~*~

"Where did they go?"

D.G. paced the room and the Queen rubbed at her forehead.

"They left earlier then planned without telling a soul. I've already alerted our troops and they are gathering. An hours hard ride between the two camps....I'm not sure what we will miss in our time getting ready."

"There's got to be a faster way to get there."

"You must have faith in both of them, my heart. They are competent men and if they thought there was danger enough, they would have alerted us."

"Have you actually met Jeb?" D.G. dropped into a chair. "I mean, Ambrose, maybe. But Jeb? He's the picture of rushing in where angels fear to tread."

"Then Ambrose will temper him. I cannot say that I have no concerns, but I have found that undue fretting doesn't help anyone."

"I really hate waiting."

"Then don't." Her mother gestured at the door. "You can go out into the storm and risk life and limb, just in case."

"No, I know. I'm useless right now."

"Not useless." The Queen smiled at her gently. "You're keeping me too busy for me to get worried. That's helpful."

"Great. Now I'm anti-anxiety medication." She smiled a little and for a moment felt peaceful.

~*~

The rains built, the winds blew and the hillside trembled. The soil could not hold all the water and soon began to slide downwards, gathering speed and ruining everything in its path.

~*~

Click. Her pretty mouth. Click. Jeb hurt beyond reason at her betrayal. Click. Annuals with only one friend, this one companion. Click. Click. Click.

~*~

The hospital was cleared as soon as the mud started to seep in and Ambrose ignored the stragglers, pushing some of them out of the way. The soldiers for their part, kept moving, unable to deal with storm, their own pains and the intruders all at once. Jeb had grabbed one of the officers as a hostage and even now held his arm pinned behind him.

"Where is my father?" He growled.

"Please, don't hurt me." The boy cried out. "Those coffins....I don't know which one."

"How do they open?"

"Just some latches on the outside. Please, my little sister, she was here and faint...I don't know where she is..."

Jeb let him go with audible effort.

"Get out."

The boy ran.

Ambrose was already on his third coffin, flipping up latches with phenomenal speed. When Jeb tried one, he found the latches stiff and had to huff with effort to pry them up. The Queen's advisor was full of surprises.

"Here! I've got him." Ambrose reached inside one of the heavy metal boxes that had fallen to one side.

Wyatt stumbled out and nearly fell as he was drawn to his feet.

"Hey, sweetheart." He muttered into Ambrose's lapel. "Storm's coming on strong."

"Hey, yourself soldier. Get yourself sorted quick, we need to find the princess and get our fine behinds out of here." Still, he took a moment to kiss the pale forehead and to sigh quietly, in relief, before they were on their way again.

"I haven't seen much of her." Wyatt admitted, practically yelling to be heard over the rain once they were out in it.

The proud lines of tents were in ruins. Children and teenagers stood in clumps under the covers of the wood, cold, wet and clearly afraid. They could all see the mudslide headed straight towards the camp and moving quickly. It was probably only the first of many.

"Then how can we be sure she's up there?" Jeb tried to run, but mud bogged down his every step, weighing down his pants and boots.

"She's up there." Wyatt looked suddenly, very deeply concerned. He'd heard the rumors and he could guess what had gone on between Azkadelliah and her old dear friend. His son was about to get his heart broken and there was nothing he could do to stop it. For a long painful second, he wished Adora were here because there were some things only a mother could soothe. Some words he did not have and silence could not substitute for.

Then his mind was back on the moment. Jeb's feelings would have to wait for a time when the princess' life wasn't hanging in the balance.

The grand tent of the Mistress stood alone, nailed down far more extensively then the others. Wyatt turned at the last minute.

"Stay here, son. This requires cool heads."

Jeb looked stunned, but stayed put.

"Bring her back to me."

Ambrose glanced between them, comprehension slowly dawning. Together, they entered and the scene made them both glad of Wyatt's impromptu choice.

The great Mistress Karida lay with a sheet barely covering her, a small smile on her lisp. Their little Azkadelliah, their tea time companion stood naked at her feet, Jeb's gun wavering in her hand. All around them the storm raged, tugging at the tent and sending bright flashes of light around her hair.

"What are you doing?" Ambrose spoke softly, only loud enough to be heard over the storm.

She did not turn to face them, the gun steadied, pointing at her own exposed chest.

"It doesn't have to end like this." Wyatt started to edge up to her, taking the smallest steps so as not to disturb her. "No one has to die tonight."

"She does. I do." It came out surprisingly steady considering the ambivalence in her body language. "I can't lock her up. She could live for another hundred annuals in some cell or worse in some re-education program. If I don't kill her, she'll probably only do it herself."

"Then it will be her choice to die." He was near now, only a few feet away.

"She loves me." The gun snapped back, pointing at the sleeping woman. "Why? Why would she do all this for me? Why love that hard? The Witch tried to get me to kill her, you know. She thought Kari made me weak. It was the only thing I ever fought her for and won. I needed her."

"Let her live. Let her make her own decisions."

"I want to die." Now he could see the tears on her face. They slid fast and furious landing on her breasts and trickling away. "Every time I try to leave my past behind me, it sinks it's claws in deeper."

"We should have left you out of all this." Ambrose moved faster then Wyatt, soundlessly and his hands touched hers. "You must stop forcing yourself to pay for the sins of another. Life will make you pay enough for whatever part you had in it. If you want to repent, then live and take it like a strong woman."

She lifted her head, turning her gaze for the first time from the sleeping face. It was the wrong moment. Disturbed by the conversation, Karida's sleep finally ended and her eyes slid open, landing immediately on the gun.

"You treacherous whore!" She was on her feet immediately, the sheet pooling around her feet. "I gave everything for you! And you would kill me in my sleep like a dog?"

The attack was so vicious and fast that even Ambrose was too slow to prevent it. Karida had her hands around Azkadelliah's neck in an instant, pushing her to the floor banging her head against the ground. Using her free hand, Azkadelliah tried to push her off and collecting themselves, Wyatt and Ambrose began to pull at the fighting woman. Her anger propelled her and they found her slippery in her nudity.

She leapt onto her object again, this time biting and slapping at her queen with a terrible vengeance. All the annuals of hardship welled up in her, swelled her rage and her strength. Already weakened from her night's vigil, Azkadelliah barely had the will to fight back, let alone the strength.

Until she remembered the gun in her other hand and without any thought, only the sheer animal instinct to survive, she pulled the trigger hardly knowing where the barrel pointed. The fighting body above her went limp and the two men who had been pulling at the raging woman stumbled back. She was a heavy weight in their arms, bloody and dying. Already her eyes were glassy, the hole in her chest spilling blood.

Jeb rushed in, half-wild and ready to defend his love.

"Hi." Azkadelliah pushed herself up onto her elbows, bloody and bruised, but alive.

His father and Ambrose set down the limp body of another young naked woman, her wound still bleeding. For lack of anything better to do, Jeb took up a blanket and wrapped her in it.

"We must go." He managed. "The storm is only getting worse and this is not a safe place for any us."

It was Ambrose that gently covered Karida's body in her fallen sheet and carried her out into the storm. He never told anyone, not even Wyatt, that she was still alive for their grim walk. Even with the thunder and rain, he could hear her last bubbling breaths and the grim rattle of her lungs.

They walked to the trees and watched with what was left of the Order of the Unawakened as the Queen's army came. It was there, in the arms of a man that she knew only from Azkadellia's stories that Mistress Karida died. Her own soldiers did not recognize her, bedraggled with rain, hair all undone and matted with blood. They were too wrapped up in their own pains.

~*~

History would name it the Battle of the Children's Army and it was a clear victory for the Queen. For once, the losers of a war were treated warmly. The Queen went among all of them herself, listened to all their painful mundane tragedies and herself went among local communities and found homes for them all. It was a lot of effort, but all agreed it was a wise and compassionate decision. None were punished for their actions nor even taught that what they had done was wrong. Only shown as much love and affection as possible. Most of them turned out reasonably well.

~*~

Azkadelliah spoke to no one for a long time. Instead, she sat in her room and stared out onto the lake. When anyone barged in, she did not respond. She picked at food left for her and grew thin.

At first, Jeb was angry beyond words. He yelled at her motionless body, berated her for her betrayal of their love. Raging and ranting, he provoked her with words and found that nothing moved her. If anything, she fell into a deeper, profounder silence. When he found his hand raised to slap her, he knew that he had to leave or regret his actions for the rest of his life.

"I'm going to finish our house." He told her back the next morning and walked away, not sure of ever seeing her again.

Wyatt stopped him on his way out and tried to speak with him a moment. Instead, Jeb hugged him, wished him well and told him to visit in the winter.

D.G. came and sat with her every day without fail. She talked to her about what was going in the castle, the things she remembered about their childhood and told her constantly that she loved her.

The tea table came in, set by the servants and with it Wyatt and Ambrose. They sat and said little and set good food in front of her. On good days, she ate some and on bad days, she did nothing at all.

~*~

The sun was just rising when Ambrose was awakened. The nightmares had returned to plague Wyatt a hundred fold and he was now used to these startled alerts in the wee hours of the morning. He turned to wake his lover, but found him already up and getting dressed.

"Leaving?"

"You're coming with me." Clothes flew and landed on his head.

"Where?"

"A half day's walk from here. It's something I've wanted to do. I was waiting...for the right moment. But there doesn't seem to a right moment and I'm thinking of it now."

Confused and sleepy, he almost put up a fight. Yet, the sweet urgency of the thrown clothes roused him and he went without a struggle. There was nothing pressing to do here, nothing that they could not let alone for another day. No one monitored their comings and goings these days. Soon fall would take them all back to Central City and the bustle of their daily lives.

They walked through the woods at a fair clip, keeping their thoughts to themselves. The rising sun set shadows all around their feet while warming their scalps. It all seemed familiar and once more, Ambrose felt frustrated by his own lack, reaching for that piece of himself that was forever out of reach.

The clearing opened to them without warning. One moment they were in forest, the next dilapidated cabin. The tiny grave marked tugged them both forward and Wyatt sank to his knees. He touched the marker gently like it might respond to him. Perhaps, in a way, it did.

"Adora." He said softly. "This is Ambrose."

Unsure of what to do, Ambrose settled on kneeling next to Wyatt in the dirt.

"Hi."

"I miss you every day, every hour." Part of Ambrose couldn't help the stab of jealousy and hurt until Wyatt went on. "Ambrose makes it bearable. He's everything you would have wanted me to have. I like to think you helped me find my way to him from wherever you are now."

"I promise to take care of him for you."

Wyatt smiled a little and tangled their hands together. He said other things to the little grave marker, but what Ambrose remembered most was that it all sounded like good-bye, I love you and I won't forget, but I will live.

~*~

Finally, the Queen came to her daughter.

It was late in the summer and the court was all but ready to remove to the city. The Queen was tired, felt all her annuals like weights on her heart. She could not bare to see her daughter in her catatonic state, but she had been compelled by a power greater then her own.

The room was well lit and smelled of flowers. D.G. must have left the wild blooms in vases for her sister. Other friends had left the windows open to blow the soft warm breezes through the room. Azkadelliah sat in her chair and stared out, thinking her own locked up thoughts.

When the Queen took a chair across from her, she felt her daughter's presence flare up in question then tamper down again into dark depression.

"I cannot imagine all that you've been through." She started, halting again almost immediately. It was all so difficult and messy now. "I missed you, terribly. Did you know that I named you after my own mother? How much she loved you and how glad I was that she spent a few precious years with us before she died. D.G. never knew her, but you would have been her favorite anyway.

"There are so many things I wanted to tell you. So many things I never got a chance to say and others that no longer seem to matter. You're my eldest, my gem and I wish we could relive all those long horrible years together the way we should have. I wanted to watch you dance at balls, fall in love and learn to rule with all the warmth and wisdom you clearly processed. You were such a smart girl, so quick to feel."

The Queen twisted her shawl in her hands until it looked as crumpled as she felt.

"I got a letter this morning, from your young man."

Another warm flare and this time it lingered though Azkadelliah's eyes never strayed.

"I'll read it to you then, maybe you can make more sense of it then I can.

"Your Majesty,

You may wonder why I am writing to you and I must confess that I'm not sure why myself. My correspondence with half the ex-rebellion fighters, D.G. , Ambrose and even my ever uncommunicative father should keep my pen busy enough, yet here I am.

They tell me that Azkadelliah is not yet well. That still she sits in her silence and refuses to stir even for her most basic needs. That knowledge keeps me awake at night. I think of her, sitting alone in mind like prison and I want to run to her side. When I was last with her, I abused her and some of that anger still lingers.

Yet, I fell in love with her and she loved me back. We made each other no promises, exchanged no vows. I knew from the start who she was, all that she had been through and listened to warnings from her own lips.

Did I judge her to harshly? I believe now that I did. Every day I wake, missing her at my side and she stays with me as I build the home I wanted us to share.

I wanted her to be a survivor, to be strong and courageous and do what needed to be done. She needed me to listen and understand her when she said that she hurt, when she told me that her spirit cried out for healing. I ignored her and substituted pretty words of love, assumed that I knew her better then she knew herself.

Please tell her these things. I think that it is you that needs to convey my thoughts to her. It is you who needs to understand her as I failed to do. She needs most now, her mother's undying love and the assurance that Karida was not the only person that truly knew her.

And tell her, when she understands all these things that she should come home to me. I love her still with every piece of my broken heart and I long for her return.

Yours,

Jeb Cain"

The letter rested in Azkadelliah's hand now, drawn there by a small tendril of magic. Long still fingers moved restlessly over the lines, reading and rereading them until the ink blurred and tears marred the paper.

"He still loves me." Her voice was thin with disuse. "I don't understand."

The Queen moved to her daughter's side and knelt before her.

"Perhaps, you don't have to understand." She kissed one pale hand and cupped it hers to warm it. "Perhaps you just have to learn to accept it and be worthy of it."

"What if I never am?" She clutched at the letter. "What if I can't live up to what he thinks I am?"

"Then he doesn't deserve you. You are a beautiful, smart and good woman."

Azkadelliah stared at her mother in disbelief.

"I'm not good. I cheated on the only man that ever loved me and killed the only woman who cared for me. I'm sure that's the definition of evil."

"Evil doesn't mourn, evil doesn't regret. Evil doesn't apologize." Those lavender eyes were on her, full of all the love that for so long had been absent for her. "And I assure you that Karida is not the only woman to care for you. I gave you life, young lady, and if you think I gave up on you during all the long annuals since then, you are most mistaken."

"Mom..." Azkadelliah gave her the slightest smile. "Please...can you help me up? I want to get strong again. I want to go home."

Without another word, the Queen helped her to her feet and they started the long process of getting well together, hand in hand.

~*~

"Did anyone dust in here while we were away?"

Sneezes echoed through the suite as Ambrose threw open windows and servants tossed their bags around.

"Doesn't look like it. Picked up a Central Courier, the battle only made it below the fold. The big story is destruction of the Mystic Man's old theatre. It was supposed to be a historical site or something."

"Or something." Ambrose agreed from the other room.

"Hey, do you still want to go on vacation?" Mail had piled up on his desk and Wyatt flipped through it idly.

A sharp chin came to rest on his shoulder.

"Looks like a few unsolved cases accumulated over the summer."

"Dirken did his best, I'm sure." Already absently reading the files, he leaned back a little into the man behind him.

"Maybe another time." Soft lips grazed his cheek. "For now, I'd rather just be home."

"Yeah." Carefully, Wyatt set down his papers and turned to take the man he loved into his arms. "No place like it."


End file.
